All In
by swancharmings
Summary: It's going to be a very long week. (or, Harvey and Donna make a bet.)
1. prologue

**Note: **_So. I don't do this. I don't write multi-chapters. I have a million and one other things to do, but this would not leave me alone... I sincerely hope you enjoy. This has been a lot of fun to write and work through. I plan on having this be four parts, give or take._

_Biggest thank you to Heather (kalingswifts), without her this wouldn't be possible, and to Jaime (paulsenpoehler) for being the best sounding board/cheerleader in this process. Also thank you to outtabreath for her stellar Tony/Pepper version, the premise on which this fic is based. 3_

_Please let me know what you think - comments/critiques always welcome :)_

_prologue_

Harvey does not expect the morning to play out this way.

Louis asking for sex advice — he shudders — naturally leads into _teasing_ Louis about asking for sex advice, which of course, Donna overhears, which naturally leads into teasing _Donna_.

The _strawberries and whipped cream _comment fell right into his lap — _literally and figuratively, _not that he'd ever admit that to her — and her slightly disapproving and downright _sexy_ expression was enough to make his palms sweaty and his groin ache.

It's familiar, it's them, it's the day-to-day of wanting _more_ but never taking the plunge because, well. It never feels like the right time. He's ready, more than ready — but is he?

As is par for the course, Donna decides for him.

"That's it," she snaps suddenly, flirty tension dissipating in a split second and Harvey is taken aback.

He turns by his desk, shoves his hands in his pockets by way of waiting for an explanation.

"Harvey," Donna says, holding out her hands. "Are you going to do anything about this?"

He frowns. "About what?"

"About _us. _And don't even ask 'what about us', because I know you know what I'm talking about." Donna crosses her arms over her chest, daring him to counter.

Still. He retreats, coils back into himself. Force of habit. "There is no _us,_ Donna."

"Then what are you doing?" She's exasperated, and he's on thin fucking ice.

When she doesn't get a response, Donna glowers and continues. "If you aren't looking for anything more then you can't keep making these comments, Harvey."

Harvey grips the edge of his chair. _You could not be more wrong, Donna._

She's pressing on. "All you do is flirt, make insinuations and innuendos with no follow through. We never touch, or we never _used _to, but that's flown out the window these past few months."

He cuts in at that, points a finger at her. "You're out of your mind."

Donna laughs incredulously. "Oh, am I?" She shakes her head. "Harvey, we both know something's there. I think we both want it. What the hell are we doing?"

Her words hit him square in the chest, knock him off the life raft. He doesn't know. All he knows is that same fear he's held on to for years now, but stronger, always stronger in moments like this when she's within his reach but he can't quite seem to hold on.

So, he does what Harvey Specter does best: deflect.

He schools his features and saunters forward until he's standing toe to toe with her.

"You're obviously trying very hard to pin this all on me."

This seems to throw her off balance. Good. They're on the same playing field.

"Excuse me?"

Harvey grins despite himself. "You're going to tell me your hand never lingers on my arm, takes just a little too long fixing my tie, that you don't stare at me across the room when I'm not looking..."

Donna's mouth falls open. "That is..."

"True?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Not relevant to this conversation."

"Oh, I think it's relevant. If you're saying what I think you're saying — you're into me."

Donna purses her lips at his choice of words.

It's a challenge, now — one he set years ago, and one that makes his heart hammer in his chest in much the same way.

And if the spark in Donna's eyes tells him anything, it's that she's more than up for it.

"You think I have trouble keeping my hands off of you?" she parries, holding them up to prove her point.

"I know you do."

"If anybody has trouble keeping their hands to themselves... it's you."

The déjà vu hits him hard. He smirks.

"Care to make it interesting?"

Donna raises her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"One week," he announces. "One week, no physical contact. No innuendos, no _flirtatious_ comments, nothing. We'll see who can't hold out."

Donna scoffs, and he thinks he sees something else flash across her face, but it's gone before he can analyze it.

"And what do I get for my victory?"

"You sound sure of yourself."

"That's because I am."

"Well, in that case," he muses, "a weekend of shopping."

Her eyes widen. "A whole weekend?"

"Yes."

"As in, two days?"

"You heard me."

"Anything I want?"

"Anything you want. And I'll hold all the bags like a perfect gentleman. Won't even complain."

Donna smiles wide. "Sounds perfect. I can't wait."

"Oh, well, you haven't heard my terms."

Her smile fades. "And what are those?"

"Nothing at all." He leans in conspiratorially. "Because _when_ I win...the satisfaction will be enough."

Donna's eyes drop to his lips before shooting back up. "Oh, it's on."

Something inside him jolts, as if to say, _this is it_ — it's going to end one way or another. Or with nothing changing at all. Maybe this just got way out of hand, but the way Harvey sees it, it's a final act of self-preservation; if she has no problem steering clear of their boundaries, then he'll know. If he can do it, then he'll know. If they both _can't_ do it...

...then he'll know.

"Okay," he says simply, holds out his palm in invitation. "One week. No touching."

"No flirting," she adds, pulling her hand away before reaching towards his again, shaking firmly.

He squeezes her hand in his. "Think you can do it?"

Donna huffs out a laugh. "You're too full of yourself, Specter. I've been doing it for years."

"Really," he deadpans, moving infinitesimally closer and she fights to keep his gaze. "Who came on to who, again?"

She knows exactly what he's talking about, narrows her eyes. "Who showed up at my apartment?"

"Where you were waiting."

"It's always nice to be prepared."

"Whatever you say, Donna," he says, and his lips are now close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. "Whatever you say."

He shoulders past her out the door. If he has to keep his distance, he'd better start now.

It's going to be a very long week.


	2. days one and two

**Note:** _I'm blown away by all of your kind words, truly, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this next bit._

_*Please note this chapter has an M rating*_

_Heather and Alyssa, I owe you everything as usual, thank you for being the best betas and for your constant support every hour of the day. Thank you also to Jaime and Marie for your never-ending encouragement and faith in me._

_Please let me know what you think! :)_

_-day one-_

Donna can't sleep.

Tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, she gives in, props up against the headboard and attempts to bury herself in her latest novel.

It doesn't work.

She doesn't know what snapped inside her, what led to the expulsion of complete and total honesty about Harvey, their relationship, and lack thereof.

It's been a long time coming.

Something about that morning, his carefree attitude and the ghost of the past in the heart of the present. Casual, suave, like twelve and a half years had not passed at all. Like they've always been here. Except they haven't.

And why not, exactly?

For once she wasn't afraid — just tired. Tired of wanting. Tired of waiting.

A quiet laugh escapes her. So what does she do? Agree to keep ignoring the tension. Not how they usually do it — not by omission. This time, through forbiddance. An acknowledgment coupled with a silent dare. They are so close to the edge of that invisible line that the smallest breath will knock them over. Into each other. Into what she always knew they could be.

And she's ready.

And, despite never fully answering her question in favor of more innuendo — she knows he's ready, too.

She knows Harvey, better than anyone else; better than he knows himself if she's being honest. And he is finally right there with her. All he needs is an extra push.

Donna closes her book with a smile.

She's going to have some fun.

—

Choosing an outfit proves difficult. She _never_ deliberates over a dress — not even for a date. She always knows what she wants.

Donna makes it a point to look _good_ every day; to look professional, to be taken seriously.

Rarely does she stop to consider the other... _effects_ of her clothing choices.

She runs through her closet, considers her options.

Low back would be nice, she muses as she thumbs the black straps of her bridesmaid gown. She remembers the way his hands felt pressed against her skin, stroking her bare shoulders, skirting down her spine towards —

Nope. Definitely not. This is supposed to affect _Harvey, _not her.

She sweeps through the rack — _too low, too high, not enough skin, too much leg —_ before she stops at emerald green silk and smiles something positively wicked.

It's long-sleeved, but appropriate for the season, and therefore will not distract from the prize — the open slit running down the chest.

She's not blind; she's caught him with his eyes in her cleavage far too often. This will do enough without giving away the fun.

And fun it is, she grins as she pulls her t-shirt over her head.

—

Donna steps off the elevator with more confidence than she's felt in weeks. Because she _has_ him. She knows she does.

Until she rounds the corner, and _fuck._

Harvey's back is turned, but she'd recognize that suit anywhere. That's the gray, three-piece Tom Ford that hugs his —

She closes her eyes to clear her head. _No._ Bad move.

Donna suddenly wishes she wore a thicker bra, instead of the black lace that will give Harvey a _very_ clear picture of just what that suit does to her.

And he knows. God damn him, of course he does. It's not like she's so subtle, either.

But she has work to do, and she is determined to retain the upper hand.

She smooths her dress as she pushes open the door to his office. He turns around and his eyes immediately darken. They zero in like a bullseye on her chest.

_Jackpot._

"Harvey, Louis says he's running late this morning and needs you to handle Kessler." Tight-lipped smile, she leans forward on his desk, granting him a clear view. "Can you do that?"

His jaw flexes, and it takes everything in her power not to look down.

Because the second she does, she's lost.

He's not speaking, still honed in on her breasts. Donna clears her throat to mask her laughter.

"Harvey?"

"Yes," he says slowly, the low timbre shooting straight to her core. "I can do that."

She straightens. Runs a hand down her hip, under the guise of smoothing the fabric.

"Conference room C," she tosses over her shoulder as she leaves, an extra sway to her hips.

She knows he's looking. She's Donna.

—

The meeting with Thomas Kessler tests Harvey's patience.

He thought he had her. There was no doubt in his mind as he got dressed this morning, in the grey suit he's seen her ogle on more than one occasion. His first win at the D.A.'s office with her on his desk. Their first Pearson Hardman holiday party, her gaze heavy after one too many martinis. The one she's told him to wear for court, _multiple_ times. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

Attempting to concoct some bullshit to warrant a visit to her office, she blindsided him completely and the second he saw her in the green, he was a goner.

Apparently she pays attention, too.

He remembers the first time he saw her in that dress. A late night, after a particularly exhausting case, ice melting in their glass of scotch, the sound of his father's records filling the room. Donna helping him wrap up the final paperwork, and it's easy, natural, the two of them in the city that never sleeps, but that night feels like it was made for them alone. Donna stands to stretch her legs and makes an offhand comment, _what a waste of a dress. _He swallows the amber liquid in an attempt to still his tongue, keep him from blurting out that it's not wasted, and certainly not on him.

He does, however, let his eyes linger on the creamy expanse of skin. The curve of her breasts, their fullness and the reflection from the city skyline that leaves her glowing.

Their eyes meet; hold each other and everything they are and everything they are not a little too long before she bids him good night.

He's forced to visit the men's room before the meeting, splashing cool water on his face as he wills his body to calm down.

Usually he can hold his own. But it's different, this time, and he thinks he knows why.

It's the fact that she's openly _trying_ to get him to crack that affects him this much — Donna has never done this on purpose, to his knowledge, and the fact that she allows him to see down her dress — might even _want_ him to see — does things to him that are not client-meeting appropriate.

By the time he arrives at the conference room, Donna is charming Kessler, standing much closer than can be deemed professional. The man's eyes dip towards her chest and Harvey's blood boils.

"Thanks, Donna," he interrupts them, nodding at her as he turns to shake Kessler's hand.

"Actually, I was hoping Ms. Paulsen could stay. I'm interested to hear more about retainer options." Kessler ignores Harvey's outstretched hand in favor of gesturing to Donna. She smiles and brushes his arm as she moves into the room, sitting at the head of the table. Kessler follows immediately, eyes glued on her hips and Harvey wants to deck him.

He'll hear about it from Louis later, but Harvey does not give two shits about this man's supposed expansion plan. Not when he's very obviously leering at Donna's dress — or more accurately, where her dress is _not_.

And Donna is _loving_ this. Her voice is low and soft as she carries on about payment options and firm culture. Thomas — _please, call me Thomas —_ makes pointed comments about how he's always felt this was the right _fit_ and it takes all of Harvey's willpower not to snap his pen in half.

Donna leans forward, her dress gapes, Kessler visibly swallows and Harvey clears his throat.

"I think we've heard enough." He slides the expansion agreement across the table with more force than is necessary. "It's important to keep your eye on the goal, Thomas."

It's not subtle. Harvey glowers at him, a look that says _back the hell off_. It's not his place and he knows it but _god damn it_, she wore that dress for _him_ and he's not going to share it with anyone else.

Kessler signs the agreement without further comment. Harvey feels Donna's eyes boring into the back of his head. He _knows_ what he'll see there and he almost doesn't turn around.

But he does.

And it is definitely _not_ what he expects.

All his blood rushes south. Shit. She's doing this on _purpose_.

And it _worked_.

Her sultry stare, dark hazel glinting with a tease, innocent smile disappearing as she brings the tip of her pen between her lips. It's all too much, and he snatches back the papers from Kessler far too quickly before darting out of the room.

—

Thomas lingers while she gathers the paperwork, but before he can even get the question out Donna is turning him down.

That show was for one man and one man only.

_Donna, one; Harvey, zero._

She doesn't see Harvey the rest of the day. When she leaves for the night the light to his office is still on, dim glow casting shadows on the wall.

When she's home she imagines going to find him after the meeting. Pushing open the door to the men's room. He's against the sinks, eyes locking with hers in the mirror.

She's bold; never breaking eye contact, she cups the bulge in his pants, scratches her nails up and down in a tantalizing rhythm that makes him stumble. That's fine. She'll push forward until his back is against the wall, trapping him there, unzip his fly to take him in her hand, hot and needy.

He looks at her like she's going to give him everything he has ever wanted. Like she already has.

And it's these moments in her fantasies that affect her the most; the tenderness in his eyes, in his every touch, the affectionate nature that he buries behind a controlled facade, breaking free for her and her alone. The heat in her belly explodes tenfold as dream-Harvey bucks into her hand, crashing his lips into hers as she fondles him. His hand traces the soft swell of her breast and she replicates the motion, pinching and rolling her nipples. Her hands aren't big enough and it frustrates her.

The dress doesn't come off. Her hand moves quickly under the bunched fabric, bent over her mattress as she masks her moans into her pillow.

_-day two-_

This is going to be harder than he thought.

Harvey winces, the unintentional pun not lost on him.

Donna greets him by the elevator the following morning, cup of coffee in hand but he doesn't even notice it, not when there is so much of _Donna _to look at. The plunging neckline, gentle valley of her breasts. Soft waves of red hair falling on bare, freckled shoulders.

She always looks like this; effortlessly, breathtakingly beautiful.

But it's her coy smile, knowing gaze, and the smear of pink lipstick on the plastic lid that send him reeling.

"Good morning, Harvey," she says warmly as he takes the cup from her.

"Donna," he replies, ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are you drinking my coffee now?"

She fixes him with a look. She doesn't back down; he loves that about her.

He loves so many things about her it's hard to keep track.

"You were late," comes the simple response. "Get here on time and maybe I'll let you have it all."

She's teasing, just shy of outright flirting and he'd call her on it but he's not going to let her have all the fun.

Without another word he sips the cool liquid, holding her gaze. There's heat coursing through him but there is also an intimacy he didn't expect, from the knowledge that this is a _shared_ coffee, regardless of the intention. That her lips were where his are now, just minutes before.

Maybe he's crazy, but coffee has never tasted so good.

He licks his lips pointedly. Her pupils dilate, fixate on his tongue.

When a few more seconds pass and she still doesn't turn away, he decides to call her bluff. "Something wrong, Donna?"

She points to her own lip. "You have some..."

Oh, but he's going to make her say it. "Some what?"

Donna sighs, crosses her arms. To keep from reaching out, he thinks, or it's what he'd like to think. "You have lipstick on your mouth, Harvey."

He gives a half-assed attempt at rubbing it off. "Did I get it?"

"Not even close."

"Well," he says, gesturing at his bottom lip with a smirk.

Donna narrows her eyes, leans in closer. "That's against the rules."

"We'll make an exception. I can't walk around like this, can I?"

She's hesitating, and Harvey can't understand why. Moments pass as she blinks up at him, as if waiting for something.

Finally, she takes a tissue out of her purse and swipes at the corner of his mouth hurriedly.

He aches to catch her wrist in a silent thanks, stroke his thumb over the delicate bone.

But she made it a point to avoid skin-to-skin contact.

_It doesn't count._

Before he can react, she's grabbing the plastic cup out of his hand, sipping slowly before wiping the rim with the same tissue.

"One more taste," she breathes, and Harvey's knees buckle.

Donna turns and strides down the hall towards her office, and he can't seem to hide the grin that creeps onto his face.

Because it's no longer a matter of _if_; it's a matter of _when_.

It's always been _when_.

The feeling settles in his chest, a solid comfort, this quiet revelation that for once in his life — in their lives — there is a clear path.

He doesn't know how, but the end result will be them, together.


	3. days three and four

**Note: **_Thank you so much for reading! It makes me smile that so many are enjoying this, especially when it's something I've had a lot of fun writing._

_All my thanks and love to Heather (kalingswifts) and Alyssa (donnaandharvey) for being the best betas and friends around._

_Please enjoy this bit!_

_-day three-_

Donna is fully dressed and ready for the day before she even so much as glances at her phone. The text from Harvey is the first thing she sees.

_Running late. Meet me at Brick St. Documents need to go to Louis ASAP._

Instantly she's irritated. She's not his goddamn secretary anymore. But then she sees the second bubble below the first:

_Thanks._

It's not that he never says it. But it does make her anger dissipate and replaces it with something warm and pleasant. He trusts her with this, with his life — not as his secretary, but as his friend, his confidant. His everything else, even if she's technically not _everything_ else.

It feels too much like old times not to give in, throw on her jacket and run out the door without a thought to breakfast, and so what if she's excited to see him?

Donna's on the corner not twenty minutes later, Harvey is nowhere to be found and she starts to regret not stopping for coffee first. Her stomach rumbles uncomfortably.

She gives him another two minutes before she pushes open the double doors and steps inside.

The gym is rather empty for a Thursday morning. She's been here once or twice, the sheer amount of people and noise headache-inducing, but today it is oddly calm.

Which is why she spots him immediately.

His back is turned, focused entirely on the punching bag in front of him, and — and this is the part that causes her mouth to go dry and _other areas_ to flood with wet heat — he's not wearing a shirt.

The muscles in his back flex and ripple with every swing of his arms. He's toned and well-built, yet soft in all the right places, and Donna _knows_ this but there is something about seeing Harvey half-naked that will always throw her and catch her off guard. Maybe because that is the one part of him that isn't truly _hers_.

It feels...personal. Like she's intruding. Even though it's not and it's a very normal thing to do, and she's just here to pick up the documents he —

She freezes as he turns towards her with a lazy grin.

There are no documents.

_Fucking bastard_.

She's a deer in headlights, pupils dilated and she has to check to make sure her mouth is closed. _Jesus Christ_. He leans over the rope and it should be illegal to look that good after boxing for almost an hour.

"Like what you see?" Harvey asks genially. He is way too cocky and she is going to change that.

"I don't know," she says, crossing her arms. "Your form was a little weak."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Since when do you follow boxing?"

"Since I followed you," she replies simply, and something softens in his gaze that makes her heart skip.

Harvey straightens after a beat, motions towards the ring with his shoulder. "Let's see what you've got."

She laughs outright before she registers the look on his face. "You're serious?"

"Get up here."

This is a very, very bad idea. He's tempting and sweaty and _naked _and there is a very good chance she's going to snap.

And as much as she wants it — and oh, how she wants it — she needs it to be him. For him to take this leap, make this move, lose this bet but win everything she has to offer.

Because they both know it's not just this one-week, self-imposed limit they're up against; it extends through the ups and downs and in-betweens of their entire relationship from day one, and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Maybe it's selfish, maybe it's for her own protection. But if he comes to her... it's because he is willing and able to be together, finally, just as much as she is, as she has been for a while now. In a way he hasn't been before, but she needs him to be now.

(And also — she _really_ wants her long overdue shopping trip.)

Donna toes off her Manolo Blahniks and ducks under the rope, daring and ready to go.

She's a lot shorter without her heels. It's not something she notices often, but she notices it now, just how tall he really is and something hot stirs low in the pit of her stomach. Harvey's eyes are dark as they stand face to face and she has never had to try so hard to stay still.

He gives her a look. "In that dress? Really?"

"I expected to be at the firm by now, delivering Louis his _documents_," she replies pointedly, and he has the decency to blush.

She can feel the heat emanating from him in such close proximity and she finds herself wishing he would just take the plunge and grab onto her hips, position her that way in lieu of oral direction. Not that _that _isn't welcome, but _this_ kind of oral direction isn't what she has in mind.

"Now," he instructs, voice gravelly and low in her ear. "Take your best shot."

She throws a right hook at the bag. He's standing so close and the motion of the punch pulls her hips back just enough to brush his crotch where he is _achingly hard_.

The fleeting contact is enough to soak her and Harvey's quiet groan only makes matters worse.

"Good." She can hear him swallow. "That's good."

It takes everything in Donna's power to ground herself, to resist grinding back against him. One, two steps at most would bring her there, snug against him, his bare chest, arms circling —

With a ferocity she never knew she possessed, she lands a punch, then another on the weight in front of her.

"Try it like this," Harvey cuts through the fog, now standing to the side of her as he mirrors her position. His shorts ride low on his hips and she forces herself to look anywhere but the light trail of hair on his abdomen.

And now she fights like she means it, frustrated, _aroused_, lonely despite his presence and she hates this. Hates how much she wishes he would just say _fuck it_ and grip her waist and pull her to him and _show her_ like he means it.

She doesn't just mean his boxing technique.

But of course, he won't. It's why he came up with this little game in the first place; another way to hide, protect himself and whatever he thinks they have to lose. Give into the want and the lust without having to fully commit.

She thought he just needed a push. Well, she's been pushing, and now they're here and maybe he's waiting for a sign from her, but she's sick and tired of taking the bait only to be cast aside.

A deep-seated fear is at the forefront of her mind; the tiny possibility that maybe she's read him wrong. Like she has so many times before.

So she'll wait.

She has a lot more in her arsenal.

—

Harvey opts out of showering at the gym and heads straight for his condo. There is no way in hell he can keep it PG, not after _that_, and he'd better deal with this now before spending all day at the firm with Donna.

She left shortly into their session, uncharacteristically quiet and it gnaws at him, because she looked for all the world like she would jump him in an instant, but there was a hesitancy holding her back. _Again._

How easy it would have been to slide his arms around her waist, bring her close to him, and she would give him a run for his money, oh yeah — Donna knows what she wants and wastes no time and he loves her for it.

But he also knows what he wants, and what he wants is to go back in time and slide his hand down her stomach to cup her at her center and hear her breathy moan against his neck.

Of course, he can't replicate the feeling of her grinding on his cock, but that is all he thinks of in this moment, lets the memories wash over him, mixing with the heat of this morning and the tension of the last few days.

His wrist is cramping but he can't stop. He mind supplies an empty gym and that he has the balls to turn her around and kiss her, slide that dress down her back in one fluid motion, and it's _much_ too hot in here, she tells him — good way to shed a few more pounds, he retorts — there are better ways to work up a sweat, Donna whispers against the soft flesh of his abdomen — his shorts are on the floor and she's got her lips around him, sucking fully and he's coming fast and hard, not into her hot mouth but against the tiled wall, and her name falls from his lips like a broken prayer.

He shuts the water off and rests his forehead against the cool marble.

He wanted to touch her so badly. More than that; he wanted to joke with her, share innocent yet meaningful touches that would lead to more later, when they were home, but in that moment just simply _being_; openly, fully, in a way he can only truly be with Donna.

And he knows that she wants him, too. Of that, he's certain. He sees the way she looks at him. He anticipated the reaction he would get this morning and she did not disappoint.

But she's keeping him at arms length, and he can't fucking figure out why. Well, besides the obvious — the bet — but he doubts she'd be that concerned over a little weekend of shopping to ignore what they have, what they _could_ have.

There's something else.

And he can't risk it — can't risk her. That's the bottom line.

Harvey won't push her. As much as it kills him, he won't do it.

_-day four-_

Donna is on edge the entire day — it's a miracle she gets any work done — and if she purposely avoids Harvey, well, he can take that as a victory for all she cares.

(She cares. A lot. But more than that, she hopes that _he_ cares.)

The following morning she arrives at the office much later than normal, after a _very_ cold shower and an emergency yoga session to calm her racing mind.

She knows one thing for certain; she needs to get back on top.

Donna flinches. Dangerous choice of words. _Especially_ with how her shower played out this morning.

Harvey is _right there_. He wouldn't have pulled that stunt yesterday if he wasn't. They've always been touch-and-go, but this is a whole other level. And she knows which part she needs more of.

She has a fantasy. One she's had recurring for years, and one she may very well get to act on if she plays her cards right.

—

"Donna, I have that meeting in five, but Gretchen said you needed my help and if —"

The words die in his throat as he rounds the corner and she hides her smirk behind a curtain of red hair.

Her dress leaves very little to the imagination, barely long enough to be deemed professional and from up on the ladder she can feel Harvey's gaze boring into the backs of her thighs.

"Hold the ladder, please, so I don't fall," she instructs as she descends, and if he's looking up her dress then that's fine by her. His eyes snap back to hers when he senses her looking and a wave of arousal crashes through her.

"Gonna tell me what you're doing up there?" Harvey asks once she's safely on the ground.

"There were some files I needed to put back." It's a blatant lie but one she can get away with, because the next thing Harvey knows she is on her knees and her eyes are level with his waist.

She ducks lower and drags a box from the lowest shelf between his legs. "Needed this, too," she murmurs, low and wanton. Donna bends back up and pretends to shift through the redwelds, fingers dancing over the tabs and her mouth dangerously close to his groin, and Harvey hasn't moved a muscle in two full minutes.

She glances surreptitiously to the shadow where his thigh meets his hip, and sees _exactly_ what she was hoping she'd see.

—

"Donna," Harvey chokes, because if she doesn't get up right now he will come in his pants like a goddamn teenager in the fucking _file room._

He's frozen in place, knows he should step aside and leave but the only thing that's getting _up_ right now is his dick, which is very much enjoying her hot breath on his thigh and her slender fingers moving below, and his mind unhelpfully supplies images of her painted nails and warm palm wrapping around the base and taking him into her mouth.

Harvey closes his eyes and wills his mind to shut the fuck up.

"Donna," he tries again, but this time it's a low groan and he can't help the way his hips jut out towards her, seeking her out.

"Hmmmmm," she hums, and oh, _Donna, _that's not fair.

"Who asked for those files?" he asks instead, desperate to take his mind off of her lips and her mouth.

"Why? Worried someone might walk in?" she asks with a lilt in her voice that stirs his curiosity.

"Is that something that's happened before?"

"Not exactly."

His forehead crinkles. Donna looks up at him through her lashes and his cock strains against his slacks.

"Harold came in when Mike and I were looking for the Coastal Motors memo. I had to give him a reason to leave." She shrugs and returns her attention to the files.

It takes Harvey's fogged brain a minute to catch up. "Wait a minute — Mike?"

Donna smirks. "Jealous?"

Harvey rolls his eyes. "It wasn't real." Still, his tone holds a note of uncertainty, which she picks up on and is quick to dash.

"Of course not. But I had to make it _look_ real."

His cock jumps. His hand sneaks towards the front of his slacks before he realizes where he is, what he's doing, and runs it through his hair instead.

"How did you accomplish that?"

Donna abruptly flips her head, tresses of hair brushing his hard-on and the physical discomfort is now unbearable. He bites his lip so hard he draws blood.

Her eyes meet his, hair mussed and tangled but still, somehow, perfect.

"Loosen your tie," she orders, nodding at the navy blue fabric and he's quick to comply.

"Yeah, like that," Donna breathes and Harvey swears he has never been this hard in his life.

She is looking at him with wild hazel eyes, full lips that looks like he's just devoured her and the hair to match and if he doesn't move right now, he will never leave.

But that's just it — she's trying to get him to crack.

And he can't help but wonder if that's all it is.

Because every time he thinks she'll make her move, she doesn't. Just like she isn't now.

Harvey clears his throat and gingerly side-steps away from the shelf, Donna's sweet mouth and everything he's ever wanted.

"Meeting," he mutters before dashing out the door, hoping like hell he can duck in the bathroom without seeing anyone.

—

Even though she got what she wanted — Harvey flustered and frustrated, at her mercy, unable to form a coherent sentence — Donna can't help the sense of loss that surrounds her as he leaves.

Because she didn't get _everything_ she wanted.

—

_There is one chapter left to go... thank you so much for reading! And please be smart, stay safe, and stay healthy ❤️ Together, we'll get through this._


	4. days five, six, and seven

**Note: **_Thank you for reading this through to the end. Like I said, I've never done this before, but I'm happy with the outcome and proud of myself - I told a story I wanted to tell and I had fun doing it. I hope it made you happy, too._

_Heather (kalingswifts) and Alyssa (donnaandharvey) are amazing and patient and give me more credit than I deserve, I love you both and thank you for the betas, always._

_Please enjoy the final installment!_

—

Harvey doesn't necessarily _avoid_ Donna. It's not deliberate. He's just...cautious. Vigilant.

Maybe she would come to him.

And as the days went on —

_Maybe she won't._

And it's this thought to which he has resigned himself, come Monday morning, the seventh day — _and on the seventh day, he rested_, he thinks bitterly — and he holes himself up in his office with whatever bullshit cases he can find, because facing the reality, the end without a means, is a pill far too hard to swallow.

With each passing second without Donna in his office — in his arms — he grows more and more agitated, withdrawn. Maybe he pushed too far, after all. The thought knocks the wind out of him, that maybe he destroyed their relationship without even giving it a real go.

So he'll go to her now. Play it off, tell her they both won, offer her this weekend and hope like hell she takes it and gives him a piece of her. Any piece of her.

—

The weekend makes things easier, and Donna is content to have a long bath and forget this whole thing — until maybe she doesn't, under the safety of the bubbles, but her bathtub has certainly seen its fair share over the years.

She doesn't hear from Harvey. Which is to be expected, given that she hasn't made any move to reach out to him, either. But she can't help but feel put out.

So as Monday morning approaches, Donna doesn't know what to expect. Doesn't know how much longer she can keep playing this game.

He's been all talk and no action — which she supposes was the entire point of this charade, but she has been nothing but crystal clear. She wants him. And in those small moments, laden with intimacy, when he drops his guard, she can feel how much he wants her — physically, of course, but also in all the ways that matter.

And yet, Harvey has not pressed her against the file room wall to lick and suck his way down her body; he hasn't fucked her so hard that she forgets her own name, or fingered her under her desk while her foot teases his cock, or shown up at her door in the dead of night because he just _has_ to have her. All of her.

So the small doubt lingers, grows in her brain like a cancer, suffocating every thought.

She exits the elevator without a spring in her step and she's _nervous_, of all things, for God's sake —

— and nothing.

Harvey doesn't so much as glance her way. She didn't even care what she threw on this morning — partly out of spite, partly out of self-pity. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

The day drags on. Nine unproductive hours later, Donna puffs out her cheeks in a sigh, pushes away from her desk and marches down to Harvey's office. She doesn't have a plan, exactly, but she'll think of something on the way.

Donna is so lost in thought that she doesn't realize Harvey is on his way out until she nearly knocks him over.

"Jesus, Harvey!"

"Sorry," he says, uncharacteristically sheepish, beckoning her back into his office. "I was actually on my way to come find you."

Her brow knits in confusion as she swings the door closed behind her. "For what?"

Harvey rocks on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets — looking very cat-that-ate-the-canary, much like he did when this all started.

"It's been a week."

Donna blinks. It takes a moment for his words to sink in. "You mean —"

He smirks. "Call it a tie?"

Donna shakes her head, bewildered. "The weekend doesn't count, Harvey."

His blasé smile fades, though his eyes are still gleaming. "You should have stipulated that."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about amending our _contract_," she bites back.

His face turns sour. "What the hell is your problem?"

Donna sighs and turns away. This is the last conversation she wants to be having right now.

"Look, if this is about your shopping trip, I'm prepared to honor that—"

"You know what? Don't bother," she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest in defense.

"What?"

Donna laughs humorlessly. "You know, I actually thought...but no, of course not."

"Donna—"

"_Harvey," _she raises her voice as she cuts him off.

This is her last chance, her last shot. The last bone she'll throw him.

_Push until it hurts._

"I thought you were ready. I thought this was it. But then I think, what the hell is taking him so long?"

"Me?"

"Yeah! You, Harvey! I gave you every opportunity!"

"It's not as if you ran at me either," he challenges, and Donna can tell he's growing more pissed off by the second.

"That's the problem, Harvey. I _always_ run to you."

He doesn't say anything more, seemingly at a loss for words. He's just staring at her, eyes holding a thousand different emotions that never see the light of day. It captivates her and terrifies her all at the same time. She's laying it all on the line and her heart pounds a mile a minute, hands limp and clammy at her sides.

"Obviously, you can't make this work, or maybe you don't _want_ to make this work."

_Maybe you don't want __**me**__._

"You honestly don't see what you do to me?!" Harvey shouts, voice breaking. Donna is taken aback at his outburst.

Tears form as she lets out a watery chuckle. "What happened to, 'I'm human, Donna'?"

He holds her gaze, voice thick with meaning. "_This_ is never just about _that_. And you know it."

And there it is; his fears laid bare before her, everything she is to him and how astronomical and momentous they are, and would be, and Harvey wonders how she cannot see that she is the most important person in his life.

But Donna does see it there, she always has; the gravity of emotion pours out of every fiber of his being as he stares at her now.

He just needs to show her.

She hopes beyond all hell that he can. Because this is it.

Donna shakes her head, steps back with finality. "No, Harvey. I don't."

It's the second time she's walked out of his office like this, and the millionth time he finds himself choked up, lungs caving in, unable to give her what she needs in that moment, what they both crave.

And then it hits him with striking clarity:

She wants him. He wants her.

_She's the most important person in his life._

It's as simple as that.

And it's the last time he'll let her walk away.

—

He's never felt distance quite like this.

His heart pounds in his ears, jumping out of the cab before it even comes to a halt outside her building. He throws his wallet at the driver in lieu of payment. He doesn't give a shit. Everything he has belongs to her.

He jams the elevator button and is increasingly pissed off when it doesn't show. He opts for the stairs, takes them two at a time, and before he knows it he is knocking fiercely on her door.

He has a whole speech prepared, but as soon as she opens the door and her eyes lock with his, he doesn't even think.

He sees the spark of understanding — leave it to Donna to read between the lines — as his body and soul are thrown forward and meet hers in a heart-stopping kiss.

Time seems to stop; their lips slide together, Donna's arms wind around his neck, his hands grasp her waist to unconsciously pull her closer.

He pulls away. He needs to see her face. He needs to tell her.

"Donna..." he starts, but she leans forward and cuts him off with her soft, sweet lips.

"I know," she whispers, staring up at him with a raw vulnerability that shakes him to the core.

He's about to kiss her again, but pauses as the cuffs of her sleeves brush his neck. Donna doesn't wear _cuffs._

"Are you..." Harvey looks down, takes in the rumpled white fabric, top two buttons askew exposing a sea of freckles. "Is that my shirt?"

She raises her eyebrows, still wrapped in his arms.

"Donna, why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Because I knew you would show up here the second I left your office," she whispers, eyes twinkling.

He gapes. "Donna Paulsen," he says in awe and she laughs wholeheartedly.

"Are you going to kiss me or do I have to wait another week?" she challenges, but beneath the lofty veneer rests a shadow of doubt. He hates that he's the cause of it, and he thinks he'd very much like to kiss it away and make it better — so he does, ravaging her lips once more and she scratches her nails at the base of his skull as if she can't be close enough. He knows the feeling; his mouth opens under hers and their tongues greet, a gentle hello after thirteen years before they fall into the practiced song and dance of old lovers.

He pulls away reluctantly, relishing in the soft tug of her bottom lip loosening from his. Rests his forehead on hers, and Donna blows sweetly on his face, catching her breath.

And it's so easy. Holding her gaze, breathing together, her gentle caresses on his shoulder blades while his thumbs rub circles on her hipbones.

He wants this. He's wanted this for years.

And there is no room for any doubt when Donna grabs his hands from her sides and pulls him towards her living room, grinning at him like Christmas came early.

She presses her lips to his as they sink down onto the couch. His hands curve along her breasts, aching to touch her everywhere but still holding back. He can't help it; this is the most important moment in his life and he can't afford to screw it up.

Donna senses this. "Harvey," she pleads, and that's all the permission he needs. He cups them in his hands, testing the weight of them; a perfect fit.

Every inch of her is a perfect fit.

His hands are everywhere after that, grazing her hips, sliding over the swell of her ass where he squeezes hard and she grinds against him. He pulls his shirt — and it makes him impossibly harder when he remembers it's _his shirt_ — to the side so he can take her breast in his mouth.

Donna sighs, throws her head back as he bites down on her nipple, rolling it between his teeth. Her hands are tugging at his hair and the swirl of her hips on his lap is going to be the death of him.

It's hard and heavy but it's different. She's different. Intimacy is at the heart of every touch, every stroke, every needy sound from the back of her throat. Their hands find each other as they move, palmer's kiss, and Donna threads her fingers between his and he swears the word _complete _never held any meaning before this moment.

Until Donna palms him through his slacks, sets him free and sinks down on him. And this is the definition of complete. Whole.

_Love._

Foreheads pressed together, hands entwined, their eyes meet and matching smiles adorn their faces.

_It's you._

_It's you._

He forgets in that moment that they haven't always been _like this. _It feels like they have.

Donna starts to move and Harvey is mesmerized. And more than a little past his breaking point.

"Donna," he breathes into her ear, stilling her hips with his hands. "I want —"

She swallows the rest of his sentence with a full, chaste kiss. "I know. But we have time for that. All the time in the _world_ for that. Right now, I just want you."

She nips at his lower lip and his dick twitches inside her.

"Bedroom," he mutters into her neck, picking her up and she wraps her legs around his waist.

He stubs his toe and she jostles out of his arms, and it's entirely un-sexy and messy and they laugh at the absurdity of it all as they stumble through the threshold to the foot of her bed.

He's not sure how they get there, but in one swift motion Donna has straddled him once more and he shudders with a sigh as he fills her.

And fuck if it doesn't feel so good, but the need to be closer consumes him — and it's almost poetic, how they spent years apart but now these last few inches seem unbearable — so he reaches forward to crush her against his chest. He breathes her in as their noses brush together, a gentle nudge before Donna slowly rolls him over so he's on top.

They don't need words, but he says them anyway.

"Wish I'd come to my senses sooner."

She understands.

"It's okay." A full-blown grin. "I was worth the wait."

_You're it for me_ is what he doesn't say, but he sees the same promise reflected in her gaze and for that, he's grateful and moved all at once.

Harvey kisses her as he starts to move, and she moans into his mouth.

He's buried to the hilt, pulls all the way out before plunging back in and it's hypnotic, the push and pull like the tide, the secret thrill of their hips crashing and bumping together. She's watching, eyes locked on his every movement and he might come from that alone, her dark eyes drinking in their lovemaking, the soft whine as she bucks her hips up to meet his.

Donna's biting her lip now and without even asking, he knows she's close — he feels it with each rapid flutter of her walls around him. Her clit has been ignored, and that won't do, so his thumb sneaks between them to circle the hard nub and from the way her breathing stutters he knows he's hit the jackpot.

He slows as she comes apart beneath him, takes in every tremor, every vibration, every sharp sting from her nails on his back, silky wetness pooling between her thighs that makes him groan and pound harder, riding out the wave with her.

She squeezes around his cock. "Come for me, Harvey," she whispers into his neck, and that's all he needs; her hands roam his back as he spasms inside her, clinging to every last second of bliss.

—

For all the times Donna has envisioned this — coming together again after so long, finally and inevitably falling into bed, raw and amorous, pliant and passive, hot and heavy, every variation under the sun — she never expected it to feel quite like this.

Natural and innate and wholly content, the feeling surrounding her like a thick blanket, comforting and sure.

She is overwhelmed with emotion, curled under Harvey, the thrum of his heartbeat on her chest that becomes a part of her.

Donna knows she should clean up, but she doesn't want to leave his warm weight, doesn't want to wash away the drying evidence of their lovemaking between her legs. She doesn't want this moment to end.

She smirks against his brow, the thought surfacing unbidden. _Should have taken this bet ages ago._

Harvey's hand finds hers then, dexterous fingers toying with her palm, and she thinks — no. Any other time, it might have broken them. This is their time, right here, right now.

She's never believed in fate. But she does believe that timing is everything.

And the past week — past few weeks, months, even, if she's honest — had been leading to this.

"I win," he murmurs, poking her playfully in the ribs, and Donna chuckles.

"Oh no, mister. I win, remember?"

"Feels like I did," he whispers into her hair.

Donna smiles, a full smile, without reservation, and she honestly can't remember ever feeling this happy. She drags her lips across his jawline. "Sap."

His arms tighten around her, and she knows.

This is where they were always meant to be.

—

_Thank you for all of your kind words and encouraging comments, they mean more than you know. ❤️_

_Also, quick note — this is very similar to the end of 8x16, obviously, but I've always wanted to explore that night further and this allowed me to do that without fear that I wouldn't get it right — two birds with one stone! _

_Thank you again for reading!_


End file.
